


King's Rhapsody

by birdsaretoddlers



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comic), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, aged them up, because sixteen is too young to have ANY kinda adult ceremony, fuck Ken Penders and everything he ever laid his grubby little mitts on, i've changed some ages around too, like shadow and sally but we'll make that work, mainly in the younger cast, there are some rarepairs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsaretoddlers/pseuds/birdsaretoddlers
Summary: A fix-it fic of the King Shadow alternate universe, Mobius 20 Years Later, Light Mobius, whatever you call it. How I would have told the story, featuring plausible reasons, mental anguish, PTSD, and rebellion. This is not a relationship-focused fic but romance DOES come up, even if only a couple times. There will be some violence. I'll tag it as it crops up. This is in DIRECT response to Sonic IDW 36, in which people are shitting on Shadow's characterization.
Relationships: Shadow the Hedgehog/Sally Acorn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Links

Overcast clouds hung low, and rolled slowly over the cold night air in the metropolis that had once been called 'Castle Town'. Back when the Acorns called the shots, at least. A thousand years of history written by the hands of the squirrels, gone, replaced with blood and violence, the black and red that heralded the new king in town. Dim streetlights that were no brighter than the moon, and shiny electric billboards hummed and sputtered along the streets. The light reflected off of puddles, creating momentary winks of bright color in this otherwise dingy and run-down part of town. The outskirts of the new city, the city of Ark, the city where the world had crumbled to it's knees under the rocket shoe of the newest overlord. There had been no stopping the new king in his quest to conquer all. Merely taming, with the queen doing her best to calm and smooth the rough edges of her husband.   
  
The new king had created a wide outreach program, championed by his wife, extending their hands to the poor and needy in a way that resulted in very few homeless residents making these their new base of operations. Those that were here rejected the king and his kindness, choosing to martyr themselves rather than take that bloodstained hand. The blood of friends, of family, of any who attacked and raised trouble in this new rule coated the once white glove that adorned the hand of their would-be savior. However, in their marytrism also came their silence, and as the group of shifty individuals hastened down the alleyway, the downtrodden turned no heads. They made no comments, and did not react when the passers-by flicked their pocket change into the tins of the damned. This group was never here, and that would be the story were the Dark Presence to arrive. These five, as their boots splashed through the now-tepid rainwater, had never existed, and these poor souls would never rat out these young ones, were they to be caught in this act.

Not that they would. These young bloods had been at this a while now, had done this exact same thing so many times previously. At this point, they were practically experts. Pinning themselves to the wall, backs against the hard surface, the girl at the head of the column stopped and motioned her cohorts to get down. Sprinting across a road with her accomplices, her backpack dug into her shoulders with the weight of impending crime. As she ducked into a new alleyway, breathing heavily, she perked her ears to look for any sounds. None.

She slunk forwards, silent in the night, her boots making no noise against the wet cobbles. She slid the backpack off her shoulders, gently, ensuring she didn't place it into a puddle as she went by. It had ceased raining, but the humidity hung heavy over her head, like an axe waiting to drop. With a gentle twitch of her head, she put her hood down, and touched the wall beside her. It was squat, made of brick and stone, a well-maintained symbol of the king's hypocrisy. Old posters were splattered across it, drenched in rain and tears, faded and torn with colors bleeding into one another until they were hardly legibile. The only thing that made them make sense at all were that the slogans and words were so familiar to the residents.

_The Chaotix are always watching!_   
  
_Family benefits to new military recruits! Sign up today!_

A recruitment office, in the older bit of town, where the small struggling population that outwardly hated him was located. The king never raised a violent hand to these dissenters, but his tactics were more underhanded. He was dismantling them with kindness, not with violence, and the insidious effect was only further ruining this area.  
  
 _He goes through their children_ , the girl remembered her father saying over a cup of hot cider, spiced with cinnamon and a little touch of clove. _He puts these buildings up. He offers them a better world, in community service, in outreach. He never puts them to war, so they speak about how much he's helped them escape their lives. He's destroying these communities by robbing their futures out from under their noses. It's a classic maneuver._

Peeking her head around the wall, the girl looked down the street, up and down, sweeping to spot any hiding Dark Presence members. Oh, certainly, the king denied they existed. She knew they did, though, as did everyone else who had a brain cell in this world. The king's secret police, his hidden mace. He could tout the Chaotix as his peacekeepers all day, but everyone who'd ever broken the unspoken 'golden' laws knew they came down with violence, swift and true. Under the overhangs of buildings, hiding in other alleyways or watching from windows, posted up as poor buggers hiding from the rain, she knew how to spot them. They were hours past the 8PM curfew. Anyone out now was homeless, a vandal, or Dark Presence. Once her cursory sweep was completed, she kept her eyes on the road, and extended an arm behind her. Crooking a single finger, she motioned for one of her friends to come closer.

She could feel his presence at her back, he didn't need to touch her to let her know he was there. Moving her head slightly to the side, she raised her hand, and pointed across the street. There, a lone, blinking red light. A new camera. _Guess the King's gettin' real sick of our shit, huh?_ The words were unspoken, communicated in a smirk and a tilt of her head. The boy beside her stifled a snort and nodded his head, backing away. He could hack that camera, she knew that much quite well. However, any technological disruption would bring the Presence and Chaotix both down on all their heads, and that would be disastrous. Instead, they'd merely have to do this quickly. She retreated a couple steps, back into the deeper shadow, then stood back up to slink back to her buddies.

Her partners in crime had already prepared the tools for the job. Beaten, battered cans of spraypaint done in black, white and blue, with yellow to serve as accents. The girl offered a fist to all three of her remaining accomplices, and the bump was taken with gusto. The girl backed up, framing the space she'd need with her hands. _A small mural is all we'll have space to do, I guess. Last time we were here I got too big for my britches and busted my leg hopping that fence. And with that camera, I'm guessing they've finally dropped a patrol on this route._

Not that it could stop her.

Grinning to her friends, she grabbed the black can of spraypaint and knocked the cap off against the wall. Taking her leather jacket off, she wrapped the can up and gave it a vigorous shake, the cloth dampening the tell-tale sound of mischief being made. It was a trick that had served her well, though several spots on the coat now carried paint stains. A small price to pay, when the reward was rebellion. As she slipped her coat back on, a girl with long lop ears gently touched her back and slipped past, signaling she was taking up watch at the road beside her.

The girl glanced over her shoulder to the boy that had looked at the camera with her. He had hunkered down behind some trash cans, leaning against the opening a small computer to track any Presence activity nearby. His eyes darted up, and he gave her a thumbs-up. The all-clear, no Presence that he could detect anywhere close by. At her side was another boy, with short blonde hair that curled up around his face. He wielded a spraypaint can, like she did, in his metal arm. She grinned and clinked the cans together, the moon providing enough light to see the smile she got in response. Digging into the pocket on the inside of her coat, she fished out a single earbud. She snaked it up her front, pinned it to her collar with a clip, and set it into her ear. She looked around at her team, one last time.

Argyle behind her handling the technology. Belle at the end of the road, checking to ensure there would be no surprises. Jacques beside her, wielding a paint can like he did a sword, and Melody at the backpack that carried their tools, ready to pass snacks, paint, and anything else they needed.

The girl smiled, and with a click on her old-school tape player, set her favorite track to play. It was an old-school device, certainly, stolen from her father, but it was analog. There were rumors that the Dark Presence could track anything digital, so for years, she had been using the tape player, taking tapes from old boxes stored in her attic. It was safer, when she was out breaking laws. She was no artist, but these walls were the canvas to her revolution, no matter how small. The words were ethereal, a high, tinny voice sounding into her ear. 

_Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!_

_Break the chains._ She could see the words in her mind, the cry of the forgotten and the strong of soul, the beaten but unbroken. The king had bound them up in his war for 'peace' begotten by violence, and she would not stand for it. An old ballad played in her ear, the single earbud carrying with it all the weight in the world. Time slowed and stretched and sped by in equal measure as she created a picture worthy of the king's own castle, the links around the letters, the rosettes in the words that would bolster up this dying spirit. They could not permit the king to win.

The girl was merely a babe when the new king had taken over. She didn't remember a life other than this one, other than the king's regime. By the time she was old enough to form any memories, the world was conquered in it's entirety, and the cultural melting pot had begun by force. However, she dreamed of a life that wasn't dictacted by a military's curfew. Where the world could be separate, where there was the possibility to go elsewhere when she disliked the rules where she lived. Places she had heard about in stories from her father and aunts and uncles. In order to do that, however, she had to _break the chains._

So engrossed was she in her art that she entirely missed the first warning sign. She didn't miss the second one, though, as Jacques grabbed her shoulder and hissed in her ear. "Mademoiselle, Argyle says it is time to GO!"

Not a moment too soon, as Belle came rocketing down the alleyway as fast as she could go. Argyle was scrambling to his feet as well, gathering up his electronics and booking it down the alleyway. Melody took him by the arm and raced away, blessed with super speed the others did not have. In the distance, the girl could hear the Dark Presence revving their engines and heading this way. They were quick and mean when they wanted to be, which was almost always, and would have no mercy on the young when caught. The girl grabbed Jacques and pushed him away, hissing in a low voice, _"Run! I'll be right behind you!"_

The song continued, mocking her in it's clarity and meaning.

_I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;_

The cowardly boy did not have to be told twice, turning tail and high-tailing it away into the dark and damp. The girl cringed and cursed, glancing at her messy mural, to the evidence laying across the ground. Leaving these paint cans, especially when spraypaint was now being strictly regulated and monitored, was a shame. However, being caught wasn't worth twenty bucks in paint. Her sneakers squeaked against the pavement, as she scrambled away, and the girl threw her hood over her head, snagging the backpack by a single strap as she dashed past. More paint spilled out, clattering onto the ground, but she made no move to grab it. Casting a single look behind her, Dark Presence members skidded into the mouth of the alley, with lights and glowing red eyes, and she felt her heart leap into her throat. _It's okay, it's okay, you're quicker and smarter than they are, just keep running. Keep running._

The first and truest rule, to keep running was the best way to get away. Her breath was already ragged in her throat, but as long as she booked it, hopped a couple of fences, and never stopped, she would be okay. Her buddies, now, were on their own, but two could fly, and one had super speed. They would all be okay too, they knew the rules to go right home, and ensure they were not followed. The commotion behind her grew louder, and she pressed her mouth into a line, head down and heart set on escape. She practically flew through the wet street, merely a flash of black and purple clothing in the night as she ran into the alleyway with the homeless she had given her coins. The humidity was pressing, and the walls loomed close, sucking out her ability to move as freely as she wanted. The girl's hair streamed out behind her as her hood slipped, and she looked behind her one last time, to check how close the Presence were to catching up to her.

That was her last mistake. Her foot hit something hard, and she tripped, catapulting into the air a few feet before she ate shit into the ground. Using her hands to break her fall, her limbs broke into a scrabble against the pavement, ignoring the sting that signaled she'd scraped her palms and knees. However, she could go nowhere, as something heavy tackled her down to the ground again. Knees pressed down against her back, and a hand smushed her head and cheek into the wet pavement, arms caught under her. They were extracted effortlessly and held behind her back, linked up in a set of nice silver bracelets before she could think to fight. It would have been useless anyways, the Presence members were all trained extensively in hand-to-hand combat. The same homeless man she'd helped prior, dressed in rags and robes, now wore the silver eyepieces reserved for Presence members, glinting down at her in the corner of her eye. An agent. She'd been caught.

Some higher-ranking Presence member walked around her, and she sneered at the sight. She knew those black leather boots with the slight heel, the silver buckle on the side. Knew them quite well, really, and as the lady echidna squatted down before her, the girl couldn't help but smirk. Her chin was raised with a riding crop, the one Lien-Da always carried around, and the girl relished in seeing the woman's expression change from satisfaction to pale-skinned horror. The Kommisar's eyes went wide, silver cybernetics glinting in the dim light as she took in the features of the girl whom she had given a bloody nose in the tackle. Her tape-player wobbled it's last notes, damaged in the fall. "Princess Alexis?!"

Alyx grinned. "Surprise, bitch."

_His day is marching on._


	2. Another Day

The dungeon, a place Alyx was all too familiar with, despite her young age. The slow dripping of the condensation from the ceiling, the skitter of non-Mobian rodents across the cold, craggly stone floor. The smell of must and despair, the all-encompassing boredom that accompanied a long, lonesome stay in these hard cobble boxes. Stale air rested in her nose, on her tongue, her only avenue to any new sights being her large barred door, and a small window that opened onto ground level. Really, it was like a second home to the young rebel! Weak light streamed into the rapidly warming cubicle, signaling that it was around the time they would let her out.

It was not her only stay in these walls, oh no, not by a long shot. Alyx, laid down on her thoughtfully provided wooden bench on the wall, had been here plenty of times previously. As a scamp, running amok in these halls when she escaped her parents on 'royal' visits, to now. As a one-girl rebel with one very serious cause, no matter how much everyone involved saw her as a joke. Her arms were extended behind her head to cushion it against the damp, chilly wood, using her thin blanket provided as added padding. Her legs were kicked up, one leg resting over the other knee, gently rocking her foot from side to side as she waited on release. It wouldn't be very long now, she had learned to estimate the time by the way the light hit her cell, creating a small rectangle on the ground, broken up by the shadows of the bars on her window. This was always her cell, she knew it was the same one by the tally marks scratched into the stone.

That, and it was the nicest one, as far as prison cells could be sorted into 'nice' and 'not nice'. There were no unpleasant drafts, the puddles were kept to a minimum, and her bench/bed didn't creak when it was sat upon. The iron chains held firm, stuck into the wall some several centuries prior, de-rusted the first time she was tossed in here to 'relax' for a night. Alyx was never here long, her aunt Sally would throw a fit were she kept longer than overnight. And did, the first time she was caught, at the tender age of fourteen, playing at rebellion. That's what the king called it, anyway. 'Playing' at rebellion, her efforts so silly and so tiny that he dismissed her and the 'Royalist' movement altogether. She'd show him. She'd get his goat and put the world to rights.

Getting his aforementioned goat, however, required getting out of this cell, and that required patience. Alyx knew what time it was: 9AM. When she was, invariably, released into the outside world again, to the custody and embrace of the streets. Curfew had lifted hours prior for the rest of the city, released to their jobs and livelihoods every 6AM. Curfew was even earlier on weekdays, but as it was, sadly, a Saturday, the peons in this metropolis of Ark had to wait a touch longer. As she rocked her foot a little longer, side to side, counting down the seconds, he heard the wooden door open at the far end of the hall.  
  
She scooted further on the bench until her head under down over the edge, giving her an upside down view of the world outside her cell door. _Wonder who’s letting me out this time?_ Came the thought, blocking out the plinking sounds of the dripping water, and the skittering rats, to concentrate on the step pattern. Her aunt had a light, stately air, a grace in her steps. The king’s gait clunked on hard surfaces due to his rocket skates, and Lien-Da wore heels that clicked. None of those sounds were present, merely a steady footfall against the ground. _Leather boots, that’s gotta be…_

“Uncle!” She exclaimed in greeting, raising her leg in the air like some horrible facsimile of a wave. The echidna was not amused by her antics as he strolled into view, hat pulled down low over his stony eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, likely to avoid grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking the stupid out of her. Mouth set in a hard line and countenance stormy and tired in only the most parental of ways, she gave a lopsided grin in response. “Ooohh, lecture time?”

Her levity and grace were not appreciated, and fell onto an unwilling and unimpressed audience. He scowled and raised a gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his muzzle, cybernetic eye winking out to resemble a closed eye. “Alyx, is this the third or fourth time?”

“That I’ve done this, or that I got caught?”

“Alyx.”  
  
“Got caught, got it. I think it’s the fourth, unless we don’t count the time Lien-Dumb tracked me because I left my coat behind.”   
  
“That’s another thing!” He shot back, flicking his arm outwards to accentuate his point. “Do you know how angry she’s getting that she can’t keep you here?”   
  
Alyx sucked her teeth and swung her leg in the air, rolling her eyes in a rendition of deep thought. “Prroobbably pretty mad, I’d have to guess? Gettin’ real sick of my antics, isn’t she? If only there was some despot we could dethrone that would make me quit.” She quirked her eyebrow at her ‘uncle’ with a smirk.

At last, his expression became something other than fierce exhaustion. Knuckles shook his head, setting his hat more firmly onto his head and pulling a dreadlock. “Alyx, knock this off, huh?” He requested, his dry air soaking into his tone. “You’re too old. Eventually, the King’s not going to think you’re such a cute kid anymore. You’re gonna get in trouble.” As he spoke, he removed a keyring from his belt, sending the keys looping around the circle as he searched for the key to her cell. He continued, “All of you are. I know who you’ve got running around with you even if we can’t prove it. You _all_ need to settle down.”

As he set the key into the lock and turned it with a heavy knocking of the cast-iron pins, Alyx moved. She put her hands against the wooden bench and leaned backwards, sending her legs over her head until they hit the ground. The rest of her body followed suit until she popped up on her feet, giving her uncle jazz hands at the end of the motion. He ignored her ‘show stopping’ maneuver, and she pretended it didn’t happen, pouting and putting her hands to her hips. “Yeah, sure, I’ll settle down and play nice with a dictator with secret police.”

Immediately, Knuckles launched into the same spiel he always gave when she mentioned the Dark Presence. Having heard it more times than the national anthem, she parroted it back to him in perfect time and cadence. _“The Chaotix and the King have no knowledge of any terrorist group known as the ‘Dark Presence’. Any group operating under that name is urged to cease activities at once.”_ He whipped his head up to glare at her, sliding the door open. She gave him a wink in return. 

Too used to her bullshit to do anything other than sigh with the force of all fifty of his years, he stood by and ushered out the little rebel. “Somebody’s gonna smack you if you keep it up, Alyx.”

She blew him a kiss, and Knuckles couldn’t help but snort, shutting the door behind her and following the chip-squirrel down the hallway. “Brat. You’re gonna be a bad influence on my daughter. You’re lucky she did the inviting to her own Unveiling, or else-”

“Or else I’d have to sneak in, pulling the heist of the century on all you stuffy echidna?”

“Something like that, you little punk.” With the silver studs in one ear, the hoop on the tip of the other, and her general taste in leather clothing, Alyx surmised that was the best way to describe her. Punk. Barring any _colorful language,_ that was. She was certain Lien-Da would have some more creative things to call her.

“Nah. Heists aren’t my thing, Uncle.”  
  
“And thank Tikhaos for that.”

* * *

Oh, what a lovely day to be a free chip-squirrel, wasn’t it? The damp and gloomy atmosphere of the previous night had evaporated with the shallower puddles, giving the mid-morning air a crisp, fresh note. The sunshine was weak, doing it’s best to beat down on the inhabitants that milled about under its rays. Alyx didn’t mind it, really, this was her favorite kind of weather. Not too hot, not too cold, the kind where the chronically chilly could put on a jacket, and the chronically warm could wear lighter clothes. It was the everyman’s type of day, and as she took a deep breath of the lukewarm, mild air, she felt invigorated. Ready to take on the world.

‘Enforcer’ Knuckles handed her the backpack she’d had taken from her when she was apprehended, and again, she parroted back the script he had memorized. _“All spraypaint and salacious materials have been confiscated. Don’t let me catch you at this again young lady.”_ Knuckles didn’t bother to comment on her ability to predict exactly what he was going to say, holding her pack out with a deadpan expression. Alyx took it with grace, already beginning to dig into it as he completed his monologue. With a sniff, he waved his hand. “Get on out of here before Lien-Da comes along and tries to arrest you for something else.”

Alyx had other concerns. “Where’s my tape player? I have my tapes, but the player?”

Knuckles shook his head, arms once against posted up across his chest. “Broke it in the tackle. You can explain to your father where it went.”

 _Oooohh, that’ll be a fun conversation._ “Rats. Thanks anyways, Uncle. See you at Lara-Su’s Unveiling?”  
  
“Hopefully not on the other side of cuffs,” he replied, tipping his hat as she walked down a couple steps, away from the castle’s front steps. Alyx zipped her pack up and threw it over her shoulders, both straps on. While it may have been ‘cooler’ to only use one, back problems were decidedly less cool, even with the advanced healthcare system the new King had set in place.

Glancing back over her shoulder and catching her uncle no longer watching her, she brought her right arm towards her chest and, gently, pulled away her glove. 

Bare, shiny titanium glinted back at her as the black leather dangled from her other hand, glittering in the sunlight. Up to the elbow, her entire right arm had been replaced a decade prior with a bionic replica. Her joint didn’t even hurt anymore, only when it was frigid cold, unless she was having her phantom pains again. She ran her organic thumb over the cold metal plating that replaced her right palm, feeling nothing. All these years later, even with this amazing limb, so advanced it rivaled true Cybernization in it’s intuition and function… It wasn’t the same.

The King was a despot. However, there were some things he got right. She wondered when she last took her pain medicine. _Probably not nearly at the time I should have,_ she thought with a wince. _Okay, Alyx. Step one: Go get a milkshake to take your meds with. Then you can rage against the man again._ This would have to do. For now.


	3. Crack in the Armor

Alyx hit the bottom stair with some pep in her step, determined to keep her emotions in check. Getting angry would only make her pain worse, by keeping her vibes warm and happy, perhaps she could trick her body into delaying it's hissy fit about her prosthetic arm. She pulled her glove back over her metal hand and shoved both hands into her pockets, holding her head high despite her situation. The city of Ark was beautiful, a thriving metropolis despite being the home to the tyrant who grasped the world in an iron claw. Birds sat upon the rooftops, singing their morning serenades to a population who did not share their mirth. In the courtyard at the castle's entrance stood the reason that this world was falling apart: Saint Maria.

A grey statue sat in the town center, several feet taller than the average man. The girl had wings, a hand pressed to her heart, the other extended to the sky, her eyes and head uplifted to the heavens. Bird didn't dare land upon the statue of the Saint that Shadow claimed would save this world, but children always tended to play at it's base. The wings were curved slightly inward at the bottom, giving the impression of a loving girl, taking those into his embrace who could not cling there themselves. It was clean, as it always was, the King always made sure it was properly maintained, even doing it on his own once or twice when he deemed the previous night's cleansing unsatisfactory. Alyx muttered her prayer under her breath as she turned a corner to stalk along the castle's iron fence. She was never an overly spiritual girl, but one could always use the blessings of the Saint. 

She ran her metal fingertips across the reaching gate beside her, no real reason to do so other than to bask in the gentle tinking sound that it made. Perhaps iron gates weren't the safest thing to have, when protecting the king and his court, but they were pretty in their own right. Short hedges stuck out on the other side, stout enough to see over, but with sharp leaves on every branch. Rose bushes broke up the monotony, their tendrils snaking up the iron bars in such a way that climbing it couldn't be done easily. It was aesthetically pleasing, and, naturally warding off any punks like her who might try to scramble over it. _Smart man,_ she mused, until another commotion caught her eye.

In the castle gardens beyond this wrought iron barrier was another Mobian. A chipmunk, with long, wild red hair that stuck out in every direction, and a tan muzzle that bordered on burnt orange. He was throwing a tantrum, his lithe, lanky frame lending him the look of a puppet on strings as he stamped his foot into the ground. The poor servants attending the black-furred chipmunk seemed not to know what to do as he frothed and raged, pointing at a Frisbee that seemed to be stuck in a tree. It was tauntingly out of reach, if one were to simply stand and leap for it, and Alyx rolled her eyes. "You're a chipmunk, stupid," she grumbled. "Climb to get it." Shaking her head, Alyx sighed. Her poor cousin, he could be so thickheaded at times.

That also meant he was easy to tease.

Feeling the rebellious spirit well up inside her, she grinned, and rubbed her hands together. Placing one booted foot against the fence, she grabbed the bars with her iron hand, making the rose thorns bounce harmlessly off the titanium. She scrambled up the bars, merely a foot or so, to ensure she could be seen clearly from the gardens. "Hey, James!" She called. The furious redhead looked up, momentarily stunned out of his tantrum. Alyx ensured it wouldn't be that way for long. "What's the matter, too lazy to get your own toys?"

That had the intended effect. Rather than direct all his fury at the servants, the distant chipmunk howled in indignity and began to storm over, stomping and waving his clenched fist in the air with all the importance of an emperor. "Spoiled prince boy," she said to herself, grinning wider as she began to catch parts of his words. Certainly nothing she'd say in front of her own parents, that was for sure. Playtime was cut short, however, with the sudden appearance of a third party.

The Kommisar of the Dark Presence emerged without warning from within a section of hedges, and without further ado, took the spoiled, incensed prince by the ear like she intended to give him a talking to. Lien-Da was shorter than the prince, long, red dreadlocks swaying with every motion, the tips reaching her lower back. Silver dread-holders sparkled on every quill, save the one that was entirely cybernetic. She opened her mouth, black leather-clad hips cocked to the side, ready to give the prince a piece of her mind. Her temper was one to be avoided, as was the bullwhip on one hip, and the riding crop on the other.

 _Time to go,_ Alyx thought, leaping down from the fence before things could get ugly. James was a predictable sort, and was likely going to blame everything that had ever happened to him on her. She booked it down the sidewalk and into the city proper, laughing all the while. Oh sure, her arm ached from the strain of hanging off the fence, but to see her cousin blow his top at her? It was worth a little pain in her bones. _Now, to go and see what my partners in crime are up to..._

* * *

The halls in this castle were bleak and somewhat barren. Shadow had tried to spruce things up, left Sally's favorite portraits up on the walls to make her happy, in their gaudy golden frames. He'd had the place painted, and painted again, paying to get it touched up every year when even the slightest peel began to form on the walls. He had servants cleaning and maintaining every square inch of this blasted place, and yet, no room but the main foyer seemed to ever have... Light in it. Electric lights adorned every room and hall, certainly, it was lit, with wide, open winds facing the city he had created with his own blood, sweat, and tears. Yet, it never seemed to be bright, it was always gloomy and grey. No matter how many colors he tried to throw upon the walls, no matter how deeply blood-red or plush the carpets under his feet were, no matter how sparkly and gilded his small tables and vases were, no matter how many flowers he tried to place within them. It was always lacking in something, cold, unwelcoming, even to him. It was lacking in _life._

The servants always scurried out of his path whenever they saw him coming, or even felt the slightest inclination of a horrible mood swing. The barest tingle of the ozone smell that accompanied his Chaos Powers. He wasn't a well-liked man, by his home, by his servants, and perhaps not by his family. He would always have his power, the energy that welled deep inside. As he walked down his hall, aimlessly wandering while his mind ran in circles, he raised a single arm, looking down at his hand. Without any true effort, he allowed green-tinged sparks to dance, arcing between his fingertips. He held so much power, and yet, so little life.

He knew where to find life.

"Lien-Da." The name was spoken to an empty hall, and yet, the echidna materialized beside him. Never more than a step away, always there at his beck and call. "I'm going to be busy. You are dismissed."

He didn't look at his closest aid, the only one he might be able to call a friend, but he did feel he stiffen beside him. He knew she didn't like to be sent away, told to do something else, but it was necessary. "... As you wish, my lord. Anything you need?"

"No. Be gone with you. And don't harass the released prisoner. Go see if James needs something."

Lien-Da cleared her throat sharply, but did as she was told. Her presence faded from his side, and the king let out a breath. He let his shoulders droop, his head tilted down an inch, no longer held so high. He was utterly drained, as he always seemed to be nowadays. Twenty-odd years of constant war, being on the front lines himself, using all the Chaos Energy he could to save the lives of those he was forcing to be his martyrs. His feet had carried on walking, unbidden, to the only source of life and warmth in this castle. The atmosphere began to brighten around him, though the setting did not change an ounce. It was the aura of, perhaps, the only person to love him.

He opened the large, heavy doors to his quarters and shut them again, ignoring the room as a whole. The large bed with the curtains, the windows, the books and the desk and the carpet. He ignored it all, drifting to the side of his grand chambers in favor of a side door. It was cracked open, light and stream rising from it, purling around the floor until it dissapated. Gentle humming sounded within, the soft splashing of a run bath and the static of a radio, improperly tuned. It smelled like lavender candles and honey, and he smiled a little, in spite of himself. _Always herself, that girl._

As he approached, steps heavy against the carpeted floor due to his shoes, the humming silenced. The softly dripping water did as well, until it was merely silence, and the crackling radio. To be polite, he leaned against the wall outside the door, taking his shoes off. It made him shorter, and his knees twinged, but it was worth it to maintain some civility. Leaving his golden shoulder guard and cloak on the handle of the door, and taking his crown into his hands, he entered the master bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Moisture clung to every surface, steaming up the mirror, coalescing into droplets on the white tiled walls. The steam hit his face and wet his fur, only slightly, eyes blinking to adjust to the sudden heat and humidity. The space was wide, how the bath had been run hot enough to dampen nearly everything was a miracle. The sink sat away to his right, cabinets open, bottles of this and that sitting upon the counter. Hair products, soaps from everywhere, oils and combs and claw filers tossed haphazardly about the granite. There were no windows, but a sill containing multiple glass candles adorned the wall, all lit and smoking, the smog drawn away by a vent above them. The bath itself was grand, wide enough for four people were they willing to squeeze in. A white and gold carpet sat at the entrance to the tub, towel racks placed against the decorative pillars. All of it was, perhaps, overkill, but Shadow didn't care about that. He cared about who was there with him, the last piece of the world that could give his souls omething like completetion. He perched, almost delicately, on the edge of the tub, waving away the stream that dribbled from the water to assault his face. 

"You're going to cook yourself like that, Sally."

The Queen of the New World didn't deign to give him a response, one annoyed blue eye flicking open to fix him with a critical glare. Shadow put his ears down, somewhat sheepishly, turning his own gaze away. The water was filled with bubbles and oils, so murky he couldn't see the chipmunk within it, and she was sunk down to her neck regardless, but still. No need to be rude. He changed the subject. "Royalist radio again, I assume?" No answer. Sally shut her eye, long red tresses draping down the back of the tub, her head leaning against a towel she used to cushion the hard edge. "... I could have them all hunted down and destroy their hub."

"But you won't," came the reply, tone nearly dismissive.

"But I won't," the king agreed. At last. She said something to him. The silence stretched on, only punctuated by the ebb and flow of the radio's crackling. He couldn't take this. He had to say something. "Your niece was arrested on charges of vandalism and inciting riots. Again. This is the third time. I could have her banished."

"But you won't."

"But I won't." He hated this. This constant battle of wills, the icy chasm that split them apart. _We used to be so good together._ Shadow hesitated, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say. What could possibly make this better? He had come seeking affirmation, a little touch of a true interaction. Something that wasn't adoration or blithe acceptance. Saying nothing, he braced himself against the tub, and struggled to stand. His knees were always weak, a flaw in his design, the only one he really had. They twinged and barked and protested, but he got himself upright. "Then I will leave you to your bath," he stated. His voice was emotionless and flat, but as he turned to go, a single ray of hope sone upon him.

He heard the water move, and a wet hand reached out to grasp his own, soaking his glove in the process. He raised his eyebrow and turned his head, only slightly, to look over his shoulder. Sally had moved, leaning over the edge of the tub. Her other arm was placed on the white marble, giving her some support as she blinked up at him. Her hair, longer now than it was when they were young, when he began this quest to save the world, framed her face. "I am sorry to be so cold. Come and join me?"

The king knew when he was being trained. He knew when he actions were sincere, when she wanted to spend time with him, and when she was doing something just to keep him in a good mood. He would never hurt Sally, but when his moods swung dark, he tended to make others suffer for it. However insincere, however paltry this offer was... Perhaps a hot bath would do him good. He tried to smile, despite feeling used and coddled.

"I suppose I would like that."


End file.
